


Five Times John Murdoch Controlled his Daemon and One Time he Did Not

by Zoi no miko (zoi_no_miko)



Category: Dark City (1998)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials Fusion, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-22
Updated: 2010-09-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 08:05:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12790314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoi_no_miko/pseuds/Zoi%20no%20miko
Summary: Waking up alone in the dark of a run down hotel bathroom, he had no clue to his identity but the daemon at his side.





	1. Chapter 1

She'd been the only thing he recognized when he'd woken up, half submerged in lukewarm bathwater in a run down bathroom. It was the rough swipe of her tongue on his jaw that work him, the press of a cold nose to his cheek. "Wake up," she whispered. "You're bleeding."

He sat up with a start, water sloshing over the edge and into black fur, and the large, sleek black cat jumped back from the edge of the bath with a hiss of discomfort, retreating to sit behind a rickety wooden chair that held clothing and a pair of shoes, licking at her fur. He stared at her for a long moment, at her huge ears with long tufts of fur at the tips, at big green eyes that looked up at him, as confused as he was. The tip of a pink tongue licked over her muzzle. "I don't know how we got here, either."

She's mine, his heart told him with a warm shiver of love. Daemon, his mind supplied. Amedea. He stared at her. "Who am I?"

"You expect me to know if you don't?" She licked her paw and rubbed it over one of those big, tufted ears. "Take a look through your pockets. There has to be something to tell us who you are."

He climbed out of the bath, slipping on the tiles as he crossed the room despite her warning. She'd rubbed her head against his thigh as he stood in front of the vanity, staring blankly at the face he recognized but didn't know, wiping away the blood from the small puncture on his forehead. She was silently comforting as he dressed in the unfamiliar clothes, rooting through the suitcase that wasn't his, trying to remember. It wasn't until the phone rang that she left his side to explore the unfamiliar hotel room.

The voice on the other end was breathless, halting. "You are confused, aren't you? Frightened? That's all right. I can help you."

His mind could hardly process what he was hearing. "Who is this?"

"I am a doctor. Now you must listen to me. You have lost your memory. There was an experiment, something went wrong. Your memory was erased. Do you understand me?"

"No I don't understand. What the hell is going on here?"

"Just listen." The man's voice sounded more urgent, frightened. "There are people coming for you even as we speak. You must not let them find you. You must leave, now."

"Look!" Amedea's voice drew his attention, and he dropped the phone, staring in horror at what she'd found. The naked body of the blonde woman, skin mutilated with neat spirals, like they'd been carved into her body with the razor sharp points of her unsheathed claws. He took a step back, bumping into the table, knocking a bloody knife to the ground.

Had he done this?

He could hear the voice on the phone, tiny and far away, calling for him, but he couldn't think. Couldn't do anything but grab the unfamiliar suitcase and run, Amedea a sleek black shadow at his heels. He turned towards elevator but stopped, seeing it arrive at the floor with three men inside - pale skin, dark hats. Amedea's fur stood on end, her tail as thick as a bottle brush. There was something wrong about them, he knew it instinctively, and Amedea snarled, wanting to fight - against them, against the unknown, against whatever it is that had put them here with no memory and no identity and a mutilated dead woman that was, by all appearances, his fault.

He caught her up instead, reigning her in from fear, holding her tight under his arm as he ran for the stairway until she finally squirmed free to run ahead. All that mattered was escaping.

The bottom floor of the hotel could have been a graveyard, with everyone around them dead asleep. He opened the door to one of the phone booths, but the woman leaning against the door merely collapsed without waking. Her small mouse daemon slept on as well, curled on the shelf under the phone.

The clock struck midnight, and the world woke up again. He spoke with the hotel manager about payment - stared at his signature in the sign-in book. J. Murdoch. But none of it meant anything in the fog of nothingness in his memory, nothing was familiar but Amedea.

"What's my name?" he asked her, after he'd thrown that bloody suitcase full of someone else's belongings off the pier at the river. "J. Murdoch? Who am I? What the hell is going on here?"

He sat perched on the steps of a closed menswear shop, and Amedea placed her front paws on his knees, rubbing her face against his cheek. She couldn't answer him, of course. Couldn't tell him anything he didn't know himself. But at least they were in this together.

~~~


	2. Chapter 2

Everything felt like a nightmare - running through the endless darkness, a stranger. Lost but for the shadow that padded by his side, with only the simplest of keys to guide him. John Murdoch, his drivers license said. It wasn't until his second encounter with the pale faced men that he realized what was wrong - what was truly, completely wrong about them.

These men had no daemons.

He fought, regardless of them grabbing hold of Amedea, trying to subdue him with that horrible, filthy violation. He killed one of them somehow, slicing off the back of his head with the arm of the billboard and watching in horror at the glowing, spider-like thing that oozed out of its brain, screaming, and died.

He ran, leaving behind the newspaper clippings that declared him to be a murderer, ran until his lungs ached and he collapsed against the side of a building, pulling Amedea into his arms.

"That's not me," he gasped, looking down into bright green eyes that he knew better than his own. It was the only thing he could say in the face of such horror, his mind rebelling against what he'd seen, against the violation of those -things- touching his daemon. "I'm not a killer. I'm not."

"You're not," Amedea agreed, still as shaken as he. "I'd know if you were."

He returned to the address that his license declared to be home, but the woman who met him there - small and pretty and young with a little chickadee on her shoulder - was as much a stranger to him as everything else. She brought the police with her, and Amedea barely escaped from the jaws of the Inspector's sable colored German Shepard, running through the building with him and out through the door that had somehow appeared from no-where. John could only wish that it would all soon be over, that they'd wake up from this nightmare.

Instead, the city fell asleep. They hid in the shadows and watched the city change around them, watched the strange pale men carry sleeping people and their Daemons to new locations. And the man that was supposed to be his doctor, the man whose voice he'd heard on the phone in the hotel room, he followed them, injecting sleeping humans with vials of strange, swirling liquid as John watched through windows.

When he moved to confront the doctor, Amedea raced ahead, a blur of black against the pavement. A powerful spring launched her at the small, tawny hare that loped after the limping figure, landing on the smaller daemon in a tumble of black and blond fur and claws. He heard the doctor's sharp, pained gasp as he whirled to face him, but John strode forward unapologetically. "Doctor Schreber, I presume?"

"It's you - "

He didn't want to hear the doctor's excuses, the halted, fumbling words. He wanted answers, and as the man evaded his questions he only felt himself grow angrier. The man was very much like his daemon, John thought through his anger, small and trembling, blue eyes wide and frightened. Just a coward without those pale men around to protect him. It was all too easy to be angry at this man, far easier to be angry than to face the fear and confusion that had become his world. And then suddenly the anger was rushing out of him like a physical blow, tearing the lapel's of the doctor's coat from his grasp as the man was knocked back away from him, flying through the air to tumble to the pavement. John froze, staring, a shock of fear running cold up his spine, and in his surprise Amedea let go of the other daemon, which skittered across the pavement in a flash to the doctor's side.

Instead of fear, however, the doctor stared back at him in undisguised amazement. "My god. You really can do it."

"I did that?" the words felt leaden on his tongue. Of course he did.

"Listen to me, John." The doctor spoke quickly, breathlessly, as if trying to give him everything as fast as he could regardless of whether or not he had breath to do so. "You have -- their power. You can make things happen -- by will alone. They call it -- Tuning -- that is how they make -- the buildings change. Just now you acted -- out of self-defense. A reflex. But I can teach you -- to control your power -- consciously." He drew a shivering breath, clutching his daemon to his chest. "Let me help you, John. Together we can stop them -- we can take the city back - "

"Someone's coming," Amedea warned, her tufted ears pricked. "Get him out of here."

He couldn't wait, though. Couldn't trust that taking Schreber with him wouldn’t lead those pale faced men straight to him. Instead he ran, escaping into the shadows of the city, leaving Amedea no choice but to follow.

~~~


	3. Chapter 3

Eventually, the pale faced men caught up with him - the Strangers, Schreber had called them. They'd found him with the Inspector - Bumstead - at the edge of the city as they stared out of the hole they'd created in the brick wall that they'd faced. Had they followed him because they'd taken Schreber captive, forced him to be their guide as they tried to unravel the mystery of this night?

He'd made Schreber take them to the edge of the city, finding the promised Shell Beach as nothing more than a billboard, flaking paint on a brick wall. He'd torn through the paper in fury, and they'd pounded the brick into pieces with pipes, tearing at the loose stone, Amedea and Bumstead's grey german shepard clawing at the mortar. Finally John had felt his strange mind power activate, blowing the wall wide open, blowing bricks and debris out into the nothingness of space.

Shell Beach was a lie. The city was nothing more than an unnatural mimicry of life, just like these Strangers themselves, these cold, dead beings with no daemons who had no respect for anything.

"And now you know the truth." They had Emma captive, this woman that was supposed to be his wife, her little daemon held easily immobile in one pale hand as Emma sobbed and struggled and begged for them to let him go. Bumstead attacked immediately, but his pistol had done no good against the creatures, and as he struggled with one pale-faced man they fell through the hole and out into the cold darkness of space. Bumstead's daemon had leaped to try and catch him, her jaws snapping at the air where Bumstead's leg had been, but it was too late. In moments she'd gone, dissolving into nothingness as Bumstead's life was snuffed out. His one ally in this never ending nightmare, killed.

John caught up a piece of pipe, Amedea snarling and seething at his side, but the leader merely held his blade to Emma's throat. "Surrender, Mr. Murdoch. Or it will result in this one's death, yes?"

He dropped the pipe, staggering at the command to sleep, finally giving in.

 

John was aware of nothing until the pain came, tearing, screaming, feeling like his soul was being ripped in two. He knew this feeling - everyone tested it, pushed the boundaries of how far they could go from their daemon before this empty, aching pain became too much to bear. Amedea's voice was a faint yowl in the distance, and he tried to throw off the dregs of sleep, tried to find her, to struggle against the arms that held him. But he was so tired....

He could hear Schreber's voice, panicked. "You can't do this. Stop it, please. I've told you what happens, you can't force them apart, you can't - "

"Amedea - !" The pain was excruciating, nauseating, and only the iron grip on his shoulders kept him from collapsing, and the gasping, keening moan he could hear was coming from his own throat.

"Please!" Why was Schreber fighting for him after everything he'd done to the man? He could hear the desperation in the man's voice. "I'm begging you - please - give her back, don't do this!"

The pain was drawn tight, trembling, pulling at every inch of his being. Then suddenly, finally, something snapped, and all the pain rebounded, lashing back at him and sending him into darkness once again.

 

When John awoke again he was restrained, arms and legs stretched out and buckled into some kind of metal frame. The pale bald men stood over him, speaking, examining him, speaking of experiments and imprints. But all he could focus on was Amedea. He fought the fogginess of sleep and tried to look for her; he could still feel her, but it was strangely hollow, like something was missing....

"She's all right." He heard Schreber's soft, breathless voice behind him, and strained to look up at the man. "They caged her on the surface, but she is alive. I tried to prevent it...."

"What are you doing?"

Schreber's hands were trembling, but he buckled a black strap tight across John's forehead, holding him immobile. "They want to imprint you with their collective memories. They want to make you one of them. So they can share - your soul." But despite his words, Schreber reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve the syringe John had taken from him earlier. His promise of all the answers John had been looking for.

One of them spoke, voice booming and authoritative. The leader. "Imprint, doctor. No more disobedience."

"I'm sorry, John. The pain will only last - a moment." The metal fins of the syringe flicked open, and with a white hot surge of pain Schreber impaled it in his forehead and pulled the trigger.

The memories came to John in a flood, the childhood he'd never known. Amedea at his side, changing from form to form at will - a mouse, a dog, a fox, a hawk. But the focus of his memories was Schreber, the blond man and his hare everywhere John looked. Teaching him how to use the strange mental powers - Tuning - how to focus, how to identify and take control of the Stranger's machines. Reminding him to practice. Growing older, Amedea at his side, telling him the same, impressing the importance of this on him. Take control of his abilities. Defeat these aliens that had kidnapped and violated everyone in this city. Listen to Schreber's commands.

Act. Now.

A thought was all it took to reprogram the machine to respond only to his will. A thought was all it took to stand and break free of the frame he was tied to, the steel dissolving into nothingness. He gave Schreber a smile, finally realizing the man as the ally he was. He dissolved the metal cage around the man's body, and the doctor collapsed to the ground, pulling his daemon tightly to his chest. John could feel Amedea far above in the city, trapped in a box of metal, and he dissolved it from around her to free her.

After that he couldn't think about anything but defeating his attackers, defeating the leader of the Strangers as they rose up out of the underground and into the sky above the city buildings. He channeled everything into power and control: The fear he'd felt upon waking with no memory, the anger and frustration of being chased through the city in the endless night. The sorrow of Bumstead's death and the pain of feeling Amedea touched by these beings, violated, torn away from him. It all came together, bright and hot and brilliant, and he threw the Stranger's own knife back at him, lodging in his throat and sending him pinwheeling through the air, head over feet. There was a water tower nearby, and remembering Schreber's words, John made it grow until the Stranger slammed into it, breaking through and into the water they found so deadly, and the -thing- inside that dead body escaped with a scream, writhing and finally dying.

John let himself descend back to the city, finding the bright warmth that meant Amedea and letting his heart draw him to her. To his surprise she was with Schreber, who had tucked himself in the nook of a brick wall as protection against the rubble that had become the city as a result of his fight. Amedea stood on a piece of torn up pavement in front of him, looking very much like some kind of guardian, tail swishing back and forth menacingly as she looked over the area.

"It's done," John said simply as he landed, going down to one knee and catching Amedea as she launched herself into his arms, purring and rubbing her face against his. Nothing needed saying between them when they could feel it - the happiness of being reunited, the relief of being safe. Of being alive and complete.

"I knew you could do it, John." Schreber's voice was soft and approving, and John hid the warmth that it awoke in him. Instead he stood, glancing around at the ruined buildings. He could do anything wanted, make the city whatever he wanted it to be. All it took was a little concentration.

John glanced down at Amedea and smiled. Perhaps an improvement or two. Perhaps it was time for the illusions of the city to become real. It was easy enough to set things right - to fix the city, hiding the Strangers machines. The clock that ran the city started ticking, never to stop again. But the rest of his creation needed a more personal touch, so he turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Schreber's question was almost fearful, but John only smiled. There was really only one place he belonged: his childhood home.

"Shell Beach," he said, and started away.

"John..." Amedea hung back, and he had to turn back to where she still stood, watching Schreber. He could feel her strange affinity for this man - his own affinity, really - and the knowledge that Schreber had saved his life, or saved him from a fate worse then death, hung heavy in the air. He shook his head sharply, and beckoned her to him. Schreber was part of this nightmare, and he needed to leave the whole thing behind.

He could feel her displeasure, and they didn't speak a word as they made their way out of the city.


	4. Chapter 4

For a few weeks John did nothing but create, reveling in the scope of his unlocked powers. The property he'd given himself in Shell Beach was more than ample for his needs, and private, and soon the yard was full of trees and flowers, the house with comfortable, tasteful furniture, and a small yacht was moored in the bay of the private beach below the house.

And yet... they were completely alone.

He could hear Amedea's silent admonitions in the annoyed flick of her tail as she sunned herself on a the deck of the yacht. You shouldn't have left him. And it was true, but he wasn't ready to admit it. Not quite yet.

He met up with Emma - Anna, now - one more time, took her for coffee in a quaint little beachfront cafe. But Amedea showed next to no interest in her little chickadee, Nathaniel, and if John was perfectly honest with himself Anna seemed rather more interested in the cute little blonde waitress with the white ermine curled around her neck. Perhaps they could be friends in time. But whatever romance he'd had in his fake memories wasn't of interest to either of them.

"You should go back into the city, you know," Amedea said simply, perching on the couch and running her tongue over her fur in long strokes. "I don't know why you keep fighting me on this. You know what you want."

John frowned. "Just because I have these powers doesn't mean I have to throw my lot in with him. I want to stay as far away from what those things did to the city as possible."

"You know very well that seeing the doctor won't turn you into those creepy dead creatures," she replied, green eyes holding his own gaze. "He's the only one in this city who can safely know about your abilities. He understands what's happened. You can't just bear this secret by yourself. Go see him."

John sighed and perched on the couch arm next to her, giving a little shake of his head. "It's not that easy."

"Of course it is. Just go find him and take him out."

He frowned in reply, annoyed that she'd put it so simply. "In case you've forgotten, we weren't all that nice to him the last time we saw him."

"Speak for yourself. I was perfectly nice while you were off playing superhero." Amedea hopped down off the couch; since the Strangers had torn her away from him she could travel any distance without discomfort, and she'd become more independent now that they weren't restricted by space. Or perhaps it was simply because she was annoyed with him. "Let me know when you've gotten over yourself and we'll go into the city. For now I'm going down to the beach."

 

He found himself in the city the next morning, walking familiar streets that looked strangely different in daylight. "I don't even know how we're going to find him."

Amedea shot him a bemused glance. "With all your abilities you're worried about that? We check his old office, and if he's not there we simply follow the paper trail. There'll be records of him somewhere." She paused for a moment before bounding up onto a park bench ahead of him, balancing easily on the back. "Or you just go say good morning to him right now."

He followed her line of sight. The doctor was drinking tea over the morning paper at a small table in front of a nearby cafe, hair shining gold in the light of the morning sun. John could just see a hint of tawny brown fur in the man's lap, which turned into a pair of long ears and big dark eyes that looked up at him over the surface of the table.

"Don't leave him again," Amedea said softly. "You know you need him."

John ignored her, striding into the cafe instead to stand in front of the doctor. "May I join you?"

Doctor Schreber looked up with a start, the china teacup clattering against its saucer. "Mr. Murdoch. I didn't expect to see you."

Even startled, his words were smoother now, without the stuttered, fearful speech patterns he was used to. John gave an apologetic smile. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. It's been a while."

"A few weeks," Schreber agreed, and nodded to the other seat. "Would you like some tea? I'm afraid I have to leave shortly, but we can certainly meet another time if you would like. I have meetings with clients this morning."

"Clients?" John took the indicated seat and stared across the table, ignoring for a moment that the doctor's daemon had jumped down off his lap and sat by the man's ankles, watching Amedea with a little curiosity.

"I have set up practice here. I am still a psychiatrist, Mr. Murdoch."

The man's little smile was welcome, and softened his features adorably, so he seemed more like the man John remembered from his flashes of memory. But his name seemed strange and formal on Schreber's lips. "Call me John, please."

"John." Schreber glanced down, seeming almost shy and a little flustered, though John couldn't figure out why. "Then please call me Daniel."

"I'd be happy to." John felt inexplicably fond as he watched the man. "You've saved me in more ways than I can say. Thank you, Daniel."

"It's the least I can do," Daniel murmured in reply, the tips of his ears flushed pink, and the man lowered his head. He looked down instead to where Amedea had flattened herself against the pavement, paws tucked under her body and neck stretched out towards his rabbit, as if trying to smell him without appearing a threat. "She's beautiful, John. Such an elegant and passionate animal. Quite unique for a Daemon, a cat this size. Not the obvious power of a big cat, but a quiet regality.... Very fitting for you, I think." He glanced up through the wire frames of his glasses. "You can tell a lot about a person by their daemon, of course you know that. The Strangers never quite figured it out, though they tried. No matter the identity they gave a person, their daemon - the core essence of their soul - remained the same. They couldn't understand the relationship between humans and their daemons, and they hated that it was the only thing they couldn't control." John watched a shadow cross behind blue eyes, then the doctor gave a little shake of his head.

"This is Amedea," John said in introduction, not knowing how else to respond, and he dropped a hand down so that Amedea could straighten and rub against his palm. He could feel her pleasure at the compliments, and glanced down to the tawny hare that still half-hid behind Daniel. "She's beautiful as well. What's her name?"

"Him," Daniel corrected with a little smile, and the hare hopped out from one behind his ankles to sniff tentatively at Amedea. "His name is Kheiron. And thank you."

John stared for a moment, intrigued. He'd heard that there were people like this, with daemons of the same gender, but he'd never met any, and he wasn't sure what it meant. Still it was good, watching the little hare relax next to Amedea, though he didn't speak. He sent a mental reminder of restraint to Amedea, sensing that she very much wanted to affectionately groom the small hare, and his daemon obeyed and simply laid her head down on her paws next to Kheiron contentedly.

"I have an appointment in five minutes," Daniel replied with a little regretful sigh, watching the daemons as well, and he turned and drained the tea in his cup. Then he took a card from his inside jacket pocket, holding it out to him. "Can we meet again sometime? I would very much like to catch up with you. See how you've been doing."

"As a client?" John asked, forcing his voice to stay light, though the idea was strangely disappointing. His fingers hesitated above the card, not taking it yet.

The move seemed to fluster Daniel - or his words did - and he shook his head. "No, not unless that is what you would like. We can be whatever you want, John."

John bit his tongue on what he very much wanted to say and took the card instead, letting his fingers linger for a moment on Daniel's before finally pulling away. "Friends, then. I'd like that very much."

Was it his imagination, or did Daniel's cheeks flush pink? "As would I," the doctor replied, leaving a bill on the table. "I will look forward to seeing you again." With a soft smile he left, the rabbit loping along beside.


	5. Chapter 5

"Flowers," Amedea said as she watched Daniel leave the cafe, and she moved to rest her head on John's knee. He stroked a hand over her head and down her back, smiling at her low, contented purr.

"Flowers are too obvious," he replied, to which Amedea favored him with a look of annoyance, tail twitching.

"You need to be obvious. If you're not obvious the two of you will end up beating around the bush for weeks."

"I said friendship, Amedea. I don't even know if - "

"He does," his daemon replied firmly, drawing back and swatting his calf with one paw. "Now stop waffling and come shopping with me. You're getting some new clothes and then we're making dinner reservations and buying flowers and you're going to sweep that sweet man off his feet."

"But I don't need to _buy_ \- "

"Come on," she replied with a growl, and turned and padded out of the cafe, and all he could do was follow.

They argued about it all day, the flowers, first over the type - daisies, carnations, wildflowers, tropical - and then the colour, and John still hadn't quite made up his mind when he stood at the counter of the flower shop in his new, bespoke suit, near the end of the business day. Amedea gave a little warning growl and whacked him with her tail, and John realized he had no choice but to give in to her demands. "A dozen roses, please. Red."

"I feel so presumptuous," he murmured as he left the store, catching sight of him own reflection in the shop window. The new two piece suit was a soft, charcoal wool and was fitted to his frame perfectly, neat without seeming overly formal or expensive. Still, pairing it with the green on green patterned silk tie made him look very much ready for a date.

"You look like a romantic," Amedea replied, padding along the pavement ahead of him. "Come on. You need to get to his office before he closes. And you're going to tell him everything."

"I gave in on the roses," John replied with a frown. "Let me do this my way."

Her tail twitched in annoyance. "As long as you take him to dinner."

"Deal."

He'd made a guess at Daniel's office hours, but a good one, and when he reached the address on Daniel's card the neat little sign on the door put him at five minutes to closing. Inside there was a young girl behind the reception desk, and she stared at him for a moment, startled, before finding her voice. "Can I help you?"

"I'm here to see Doctor Schreber," he replied, watching a little mouse run up her arm to sit on her shoulder, watching him with big, bright eyes. "Is he almost done for the day?"

"He's with a client," the girl replied, still staring at him in open confusion. "Um. Have a seat, please?"

"Thank you." John forced himself to just so he wouldn't pace, though Amedea did it for him, walking back and forth in front of the desk, tail swishing from side to side. When the door to Daniel's office opened she froze at his side, hardly breathing as an older woman appeared and made her way out, thanking the receptionist and calling her Jenny.

Jenny nodded, still obviously not quite sure how to react to John, and slipped into the office instead. "Doctor Schreber? There's, um. A man here to see you?"

Daniel sounded as surprised at this as she was. "Oh? Send him in, I suppose?"

John was on his feet even before the receptionist had a chance to speak, giving her a smile and a nod as he passed her to slip inside the office, pushing the door shut behind him. Daniel had just stood from behind his desk and stood frozen beside it in astonishment. "John!"

"I hope I haven't come at a bad time?" he managed, hoping he didn't sound as awkward as he felt.

Daniel's eyes were wide behind the wire-rimmed glasses despite the scarring. "No, no. Not at all. I'm finished for the day, paperwork can wait until tomorrow if you'd like to talk now? How long do you have before your, ah..." he stopped, staring at the flowers in his arms, at an obvious loss for words, finally managing, "...date?

It took John a moment to realize what he meant. He gave a soft, nervous laugh. "Oh, no no... these are for you."

Daniel opened his mouth, then closed it again, the tips of his ears turning very pink indeed. Kheiron had hopped out from behind the desk, but moved now to hide behind his ankles. Amedea was watching him, but made no move to leave John's side.

"Would you like a vase to go with them?" John finally asked, needing something to break the slightly awkward silence.

If anything, Daniel flushed darker. He cleared his throat, watching John Tune an elegant glass vase into being on his desk, already filled with water. "Is there an occasion?"

John transferred the roses to the water, Tuning away the wrapping and adding a few more pieces of greenery. "An apology," he answered, a little too quickly. "I was cruel to you, and it's inexcusable. But I'm sorry."

For a moment Daniel didn't reply, and when John looked up from the roses nervously he found the other man openly emotional, eyes bright. He reached out to touch his shoulder before he could stop himself. "Daniel?"

Daniel turned his face away and swallowed audibly, his voice low. "Thank you. I don't deserve an apology, least of all from you, but thank you all the same. You have nothing to apologize for."

John frowned and stepped closer, watching him. "I have plenty. I hurt you and distrusted you when you were only trying to help me. I left you alone here."

Daniel shook his head, still refusing to meet his gaze, though he didn't shake off his touch. "I have spent years betraying my own kind, John. Everything that has happened to me was deserved."

"I don't believe you could have done it willingly," John replied, aware without looking that Amedea had moved to nuzzle Kheiron's fur, gentle and non-threatening. It brought a sense of gentle comfort and intimacy, and he felt Daniel shiver under his touch. "I heard you fighting for me," John continued quietly. "When they separated Amedea from me. You didn't have to."

Daniel gave a soundless, choked laugh. "I knew what they were trying to do to you. It would have killed you. They thought that you would survive because you had their powers, that you would become like them instead of the others who just... just faded away into nothing, into mindless drones with no will or identity. They didn't believe that humans simply could not survive without the connection to their daemons, they thought they could force a severed daemon to become one with their communal mind. I couldn't let that happen to you."

The realization of what he'd been saved from sent a chill down his spine. "That's impossible. You can't separate a human from its daemon. If something happens to one the other dies. Our daemons are part of us."

Daniel gave a little trembling nod, folding his arms tightly across his chest. "Yes. And they all died, eventually. They would pull them apart at first, like they did with your Amedea. Imprison the daemon in a box far above on the surface. Then the human would be injected with... with that substance. They called it their collective memories. To make the human like them, leave them open to share their group mind. To share their daemon. But instead it severed the connection between human and daemon, and the daemons became little more than substanceless ghosts. They simply grew weaker and weaker as they searched the city for their human until they just... faded away. And then the human died."

The very thought of it made him sick, and he couldn't imagine being in Daniel's place, being forced to watch these experiments while being unable to do anything to stop them. "Did they threaten you with that, then? To sever Kheiron from you if you didn't help them?"

Daniel's fingers tightened on his arms, white-knuckled and trembling, voice a hoarse whisper. "I wasn't strong enough to refuse."

"They would have done it with or without you," John found himself saying, and he let his fingers move slowly on Daniel's shoulder in the smallest caress. "You know that. You fought the best you could. You saved me. And because of that you saved all of us."

"You will have to forgive me if I cannot see the nobility in my actions," Daniel replied, a little bitter. He let out a long breath, then straightened, pulling away from his touch. "I'm sorry, John. I didn't ask you here to take up your time with talk of me. Tell me how you are."

"I'm worried about you," he replied without hesitation. "I shouldn't have left you here alone after all that you did for me. I was selfish."

Daniel shook his head slightly. "I'm fine, John. I have the practice. A small gesture to make up for what I have done in any way that I can. You have no responsibility to me."

"All right," John agreed slowly, "But what if I want to? What if I need you to be part of my life? It's all I've been able to think about for weeks. I can't share the secret of what I am with anyone else. And even if I could... I don't want to share it with anyone but you."

Daniel had gone very still, staring at the vase of roses with his head lowered, the tips of his ears flushing pink again. "There are far more worthy companions than I, John. And there are people who could handle knowing, I could assess them psychologically - "

"I want you." The words came out more bluntly than John had intended, and he felt a rush of self-consciousness. Still he pushed forward, catching Daniel's hand in his and drawing it up between them. "Come to dinner with me."

Daniel lifted his eyes from their joined hands to John's intent gaze, lips parted. "What do you mean by all this, John?"

"Friends," he replied simply, but lifted Daniel's hand to brush the back of his fingers with his lips.

 

He'd booked a room at a French restaurant that had been recommended by the tailor, not so much with the intent to impress, but just to give them privacy to talk about the city. Daniel slowly relaxed as the night went on, as if gradually coming to terms with the idea of being courted, and by the end of the night John wasn't surprised to see Amedea curled around Kheiron on the rug in front of the room's fireplace, eyes half closed in contentment. The hare seemed equally relaxed, ears laid back against his head, apparently lulled by the warmth and comfort of the place.

They stayed through a slow five course meal paired with wine, talking about the city, about what John had done with Shell Beach, about Daniel's hopes and dreams for the city's recovery. "Daylight is the best thing you could have done," Daniel told him with a little smile as they finished with coffee. "It's too easy to fall into routine in the dark. To forget that there's anything outside your own life. People subconsciously box themselves in. But in the daylight they see other people, other options for life. Other dreams. So there is hope that they will step outside the narrow scope of the lives that were designed for them by the Strangers."

"And what about yourself?" John asked softly, watching him. "Do you dream of something more than what they had planned for you? To live for yourself and not for others?"

Daniel smiled, wistful. "I have been alone for a very long time, John. I'm not certain I know how to be anything else. I hadn't thought about anything of the like before today. I'm not entirely certain how to adjust to it."

"Then don't," John said, leaning closer, and he reached to cover Daniel's hand with his own where it rested on the arm of his chair. "Just jump in and let life take you along for the ride."

He felt Daniel shiver under his touch, and Kheiron moved from the fireplace to nuzzle up against his ankles. Amedea rose up to follow, but John stilled her mentally. He watched Daniel finish his coffee with forced calm, focusing on the cup as he set it down on its saucer. "And if things don't work out?"

"They will. Take a chance on me one more time, Daniel. Please. I'm not just here on a whim."

"I know," Daniel replied softly, glancing over at him. "You don't do anything halfway. The idea of being the focus of so much passion is both exciting and a little terrifying."

John shook his head, squeezing the hand under his gently. "You won't ever have a reason to be afraid of me again. I promise you that. But we'll just take this one day at a time. I won't do anything you don't want me to."

Amedea had settled back down with a little disgruntled grumble, and Daniel glanced over at her with a soft laugh. "Your daemon doesn't seem to agree."

"One of us needs to be prudent." John shrugged. "She's just annoyed because it's usually her."

Daniel accepted that with a little smile and stood, taking his coat from the rack in the corner. "Walk me home, John?"

John stood as well, tuning a few large bills and leaving them on the table, more than covering dinner. "I'd love to."

They talked about less serious things as they walked along the bank of the river. The city streets at night reminded John very much of the endless nightmare the Strangers built, but there was a feeling of ease and safety in walking with Daniel. He twined his fingers with the other man's, squeezing gently, and Daniel didn't pull away.

When they reached Daniel's apartment building Amedea ran up the steps and sat by the door expectantly. John shot her a look before turning to Daniel apologetically. "Sorry. Can I come see you tomorrow?"

Daniel glanced down, but nodded. "I'd like that."

It was hard to read his expression, but John took a chance, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek gently, running the pad of his thumb across the scarring by his eye. He felt Daniel shiver under his touch and stepped closer, wanting to calm him, reassure him. "May I kiss you goodnight?"

Instead of a reply he found Daniel's lips suddenly pressed to his, warm and trembling, his hands coming up to catch the lapels of John's jacket to hold him close. For the first time since they'd met that morning John felt a rush of relief, finally receiving affirmation that this wasn't completely one sided. Despite his shyness Daniel seemed to give himself over completely to the kiss, body warm and pliant against his own as John pulled him closer, reveling in the warmth and security of his form in his arms. Daniel's lips parted to his without hesitation, tasting a little of wine and coffee as John traced along his lips with his tongue, tasting his mouth, claiming him entirely.

"Come up for a drink," Daniel whispered as their lips parted, and John felt a surge of desire at the invitation and all it could entail.

He drew a soft breath, holding his gaze, searching for any sign that Daniel was doing this just to please him. But Daniel's expression was nothing but open and hopeful. "I'd love to. If you're sure."

Daniel wet his lips and gave a little nod, a flush creeping across his cheeks. "Please. I'm sure."

John leaned in to press his lips to his temple reassuringly. "Then there's nothing I'd like more."

 

Daniel's apartment was cozy and comfortable, John reflected much later as they curled together in languid exhaustion in Daniel's bed. Daniel nestled his face up against John's chest, his breath warm and even relaxed, and John let his fingers stroke slowly down his spine, reveling in the feel of his bare skin under his fingers. It felt... right.

He felt a soft thump as Amedea landed on the corner of the bed, curling around Kheiron where he sat. He could sense her desire to join him, to adore Daniel as much as he did, but he knew that would be far too much and too soon for Daniel, and he gave a little shake of his head. Instead she cast John a decidedly smug look before snuggling up to the smaller daemon, eyes half closed in contentment, her purr a low rumble. It seemed as though Kheiron gave a soft, contented sigh, closing his eyes, and as John tucked the covers around Daniel's shoulders he reflected that he should have done this long, long ago.

~~~~


	6. Chapter 6

It amazed John, looking back, how easily he adjusted to life with Daniel as the weeks went by. He felt like he had known the man forever - a life of being guided and tutored, but he'd come into the relationship taking those memories with a grain of salt. The Daniel in his fake memories was there to serve a very specific purpose, formulated to teach him how to Tune and not indicative of who the man really was.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that was not the case. Daniel wasn't the firm taskmaster he was in John's memories, of course, but the gentle kindness was the same, his patience and his unfailing faith and confidence in John. The way he smiled, soft and real, was the same. He was easy to spend time with, to converse with. The affinity that John had felt for him at first had grown into adoration the first time he'd seen Daniel flush under his attentions, and quickly after into the warm bliss of love, the perfect happiness he felt with Daniel. It felt... natural.

What was different was Daniel's vulnerability, his shy, sweet responses to John's romantic overtures that turned to a completely unbridled passion in bed. As the weeks went on that passion grew rather than fizzled like a novelty; a firm basis of friendship only made Daniel more open in the bedroom, and it won John's heart even more completely than it had before.

They were seldom parted after their first night together. Daniel had his practice, of course, and John threw himself into a study of the city, becoming familiar with the workings of the government and police force, the shops and industries, the way people had adjusted to a normal 24 hour day. The city could grow, he realized. Daniel was right about that. And he could help.

They stayed in Daniel's apartment sometimes, on weekdays when it was more convenient. He took Daniel out to Shell Beach on the weekends, relaxing in the warmth and sunshine of the beach or the privacy of his yard. Daniel didn't say anything when John's bedroom developed a second closet, or when the extra suit that hung there turned into three, then eight, then various other sets of clothing very much like his existing wardrobe back in the city. John rather hoped that eventually he'd just stay forever. Still, his lover seemed somehow hesitant in responding to his efforts, reserved, and it troubled John.

Amedea wasn't much help, sprawled lazily in the sunshine on the window seat in his room as he tried to talk it out with her. "You think he doesn't believe that you love him?"

"I don't know," John admitted, frowning. "I'm not sure what else to do."

"You know it could be solved simply enough," she replied, standing and stretching, back arched. "Just let me...."

"No. Not yet, I've told you. It's too much. You'll overwhelm him."

"He'll be fine," Amedea replied with a grumble, hopping down off the window seat where they sat. "But you're the boss."

He talked to Daniel later, after dinner, the kitchen already cleaned with an indulgent use of power. Daniel preferred making tea the more traditional way, however, and John was happy enough to indulge him, enjoying his company while the tea steeped.

"You know, if you ever need anything out here, or if you wanted to bring anything out here..." John watched Daniel fill the tea kettle and place it on the stove, trying to find the words without sounding completely presuming. "I mean, there's plenty of room here, and I could design the study however you'd like...."

Daniel glanced over over him curiously, holding the half-filled tea ball. "Thank you. There's no need to cause a fuss, John. I prefer to leave my work in the city on weekends, in any case."

"Well yes, but I meant... you know. If you needed to work on a regular weekday. Or anything."

On the counter Kheiron nudged Daniel's arm, voice low and bemused. "It sounds rather like he's asking you to move in."

"Hush." Daniel was smiling, but flushed darkly. He glanced back to John, giving a little shake of his head. "I'm sorry." Kheiron hopped down, leaving Daniel with his tea, and he snapped the top of the tea ball into place and dropped it into the silver teapot. He turned off the stove as the kettle started to whistle, filling the pot, and John crossed to rest a hand on the small of his back, warm and affectionate.

"Why are you apologizing?" John glanced to where Amedea had stretched out in the middle of the kitchen floor, asserting her presence by taking up as much space as daemonly possible. She gave him a little approving nod, and John continued, giving up the attempt to be subtle. "I like having you here, Daniel. I like being with you. I want this to be your home as much as mine. I want you to be comfortable here."

Daniel leaned into him a little, closing his eyes for a moment. "I am comfortable, John. More than comfortable. I don't want to be any trouble for you."

"Making a life with you could never be trouble," John replied softly, leaning in to nuzzle his hair and feeling Daniel relax, pressing a bit closer. "I won't force you to stay, of course. But I'd very much like to make this your home."

Daniel gave a soft sigh and turned into him more, bringing his hands up to rest on John's shoulders. "Are you certain?"

John nuzzled his cheek, stroking his arms around his waist. "Of course I am. Does the idea really bother you so much, love?"

"No." Daniel's voice was soft, and he let his face nestle against the side of John's neck. "I just worry. We were brought together by circumstance, John. Who is to say you would choose me if I was just like everyone else? I worry that you'll realize this some day, that you'll discover that what you feel is only due to the memories I gave you, and that you'll regret committing to me. It's easier for you to leave me if we don't live together."

His words both hurt and surprised John, and for a long moment all he could do was pull Daniel closer, pressing his face to silken blond hair. Amedea moved to where Kheiron sat near Daniel's feet, curling around him, nuzzling his fur. When John spoke he was surprised to hear his voice shake. "I don't ever want to leave you."

Daniel curled closer in his arms, shivering a little. "You say this now...."

"I know it." John pressed his lips to his hair with a sigh. "Isn't all love circumstance? Would you love me if this had never happened, or would I just be another nameless victim in a city you weren't allowed to be part of? The 'what ifs' don't matter, do they? Daniel, I didn't fall in love with you because of what happened to us. I left the city, I stayed in Shell Beach because I wanted to stay as far away from everything that reminded me of them as possible. I just... I couldn't stay away from you."

"You hardly knew me," Daniel whispered, and John stroked his fingers over his hair and down his back soothingly.

"I know you now. Isn't that what matters?" He drew back to press a soft kiss to his forehead, trailing kisses slowly down over his face. "I love you. That's not just a whim for me. I'm so happy when I'm with you. So complete."

Daniel's only reply was a soft whimper, catching John's mouth with his own as he slipped his arms up around his neck, body slight and trembling against his own. "I love you," he murmured against his mouth. "It frightens me, John. I don't want to lose this."

"You won't," he replied, squeezing him gently. "I promise you that. Stay here with me. Let me take care of you. Let me love you."

Daniel let out a long breath, letting his head rest against John's shoulder. He looked down to the daemons and gave a soft chuckle, relaxing a little more. "I suppose it is difficult to argue in the face of that."

John glanced over to where Kheiron was being affectionately groomed by long strokes of Amedea's tongue, the big cat showing no sign of stopping or allowing him to leave any time in the near future. "Does it bother you that they're so affectionate?" he asked softly, pressing a kiss to Daniel's temple.

"No," Daniel replied quietly, looking up at him with a soft smile. His fingers smoothed through John's dark curls and along his cheek. "It feels good, John. So warm. I'm so happy with you."

"Then you'll stay?"

Daniel gave a little nod, a flush spreading across his cheeks. "Yes. But only if we can celebrate."

"Celebrate?" John asked, and Daniel reached up to kiss him in reply, warm and yearning and leaving no doubt of the meaning of his words. John gave a soft, appreciative moan against his mouth, stroking his hands down Daniel's back and over that sweet, tight ass he'd come to love so much. "Your tea will go cold," he teased, nipping at Daniel's bottom lip as he smoothed his hands around his waist to tug at the buttons of his vest.

"There are things in life that are better than tea," Daniel replied breathlessly, slipping his hands inside John's jacket to stroke up his chest along the lines of his suspenders. "This is the best out of all of them."

The press of Daniel's body against his was undeniably arousing, the warmth of his touch and kisses, and it was all John could do to keep from stripping him down here in the kitchen. They'd done that before, making love in the warmth of the setting sun when neither could wait long enough to get upstairs, Daniel pushed over the counter with his trousers pulled down around his knees. But this moment required significantly more finesse.

He pulled from his lover's touch just enough to scoop Daniel up into his arms, hooking one arm under his knees and the other around his hips to cradle him close. It was easy enough even with only a touch of power, but Daniel gave a cutely undignified squawk of surprise, arms tight around his shoulders. "John! What are you doing? Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he replied, laughing as he tightened his arms around Daniel and took him from the kitchen, knowing the daemons would follow. "You said celebrate, that's what we're doing."

"By carrying me around like a sack of potatoes?" He clung to John more tightly as they started to climb the stairs.

"I don't make love to potatoes," John replied with a soft chuckle, pushing open the door to the bedroom with a touch of his mind. He crossed the room to lay Daniel down on the bed - their bed - kneeling over him and taking a moment to drink in the sight of his lover stretched out under him, flushed with desire, lips parted invitingly. He pressed a kiss to Daniel's forehead, pulling his glasses off carefully and setting them on the table beside the bed. "You're beautiful."

"I'm hardly the Adonis that you are," Daniel replied, flushing darkly. He tugged John closer, pushing his jacket off his shoulders until John shrugged out of it. The term was unfamiliar to John, but the way that Daniel said it so adoringly told him all he needed to know. He finished undoing Daniel's vest and went to work on the buttons of his shirt, trailing kisses warmly down his neck as he pushed the fabric aside to bare his chest. The idea of never letting Daniel out of bed had crossed his mind on more than one occasion; there was nothing more beautiful than this, than having Daniel stretched out under him, gasping in pleasure as he teased and worshiped his skin with his hands and mouth. Clothes were tugged away with eager hands between the heat of increasingly desperate kisses until they were both nude, the warmth of Daniel's bare form under his intoxicating. Daniel's reactions were as unrestrainedly sensual as they'd been the first night that Daniel had taken him to bed, arching up against the restraint of John's body with little whimpers of pleasure as their bodies rocked together.

"Couldn't ever give this up," John breathed, kissing down his throat and drawing his tongue over soft skin. "Couldn't ever get enough of you. Feels so good, Daniel...."

His lover gave a soft whimper as John kissed down to tease small pink nipples, swirling his tongue around one, and then the other. He loved the way it made Daniel tense and shiver in pleasure under him, his thighs wrapping around his waist, keeping him close. "Make love to me, John. Please...."

John gave a low groan against his skin, kissing down his body, nuzzling the tender skin of his stomach before nipping at it teasingly. He loved the taste of Daniel's skin, the feel of it against his lips. "Love to. How would you like it, love? Just like this?" He kissed along his hip to nuzzle the ashen curls at the base of his lover's flushed, hard cock, running his tongue up the length just to hear Daniel gasp. He stroked back between his thighs, willing his fingers slick with lube and smiling as Daniel pressed back against them. Daniel's eagerness never failed to surprise - and arouse - him, and he worked two fingers into him carefully, looking up the length of Daniel's body as he took the head of his cock in his mouth.

Daniel had shifted to lean back on his elbows, watching him, breath coming hard through parted lips. He arched back against the penetration with a soft moan, eyes closing for a moment in pleasure. "Any way you like. I - oh god, John, just need you inside me, please..."

"God, you drive me crazy." John moved to catch his mouth hungrily, loving the slide of Daniel's erection to his own as he rocked his hips against his lover's. He considered and discarded a few options, then gave him one more firm kiss before pulling away to stretch out on his back beside Daniel, knees bent. "How about you lay on top of me like this, your back against my chest?"

Daniel half sat, smoothing a hand down John's chest to curl around his cock, stroking him slowly as he thought. "I'm not sure I can ride you like that...."

"You don't. I'll do all the work." John grinned, tugging him closer before leaning up to brush his lips with a teasing kiss. "Come on, love."

The position was a little awkward to get into, Daniel's legs on either side of his, giving the smaller man only a little leverage to maneuver. But it was completely worth it for John's ability to run his hands over Daniel's chest and down the length of his body unhindered, stroking over his thighs as Daniel rocked back against John's cock, letting him slide between the cheeks of his ass. Daniel's weight against him was warm and secure and perfect, and John slipped a hand between their bodies to guide himself, willing his cock slick with lube as he rocked up carefully into the tight heat of his lover's body.

"Oh god...." Daniel's fingers, stretched out on the sheets for support, clenched at the thin cotton, his head falling back beside John's as he tried to rock down onto him, gasping for breath. John nuzzled along his neck, reveling in the way Daniel shivered around him as he rocked deeper, in the overwhelming pleasure of being one with him. He wrapped both arms tightly around his waist, thrusting up into him smoothly, groaning at the way it made Daniel whimper and gasp.

"You like this?" He mouthed at Daniel's neck, still moving slowly, letting his hands move over the smaller man's torso and hips, filling his touch with the warmth of Daniel's body. He stroked one hand between his thighs to cup his sack, stroking and squeezing gently, rocking up into Daniel a little harder.

"It's - oh god, John. Really good. This angle..." His words broke off into a breathless cry, body shuddering as he tried to grind down against John's erection, his own cock hard and flushed and leaking in John's fingers as he began to stroke him. John started to move a little harder, encouraged by Daniel's little helpless cries of pleasure, stroking him fluidly in time with his thrusts, tuning just a little more lube and slicking it over the length of his shaft. He wouldn't last long like this, the depth of penetration and the slick heat of Daniel's body too intoxicating, too pleasurable. But from his lover's reactions he knew that Daniel wouldn't either.

"So good," he gasped, stroking him a little more firmly, fucking up into him harder and smoothing his free hand over Daniel's hip and one trembling thigh. "God, you're beautiful. So perfect, Daniel. My love. My Daniel." It was hard to hold back in the face of such pleasure, Daniel's whole body tense and shuddering with pleasure, head thrown back to gasping cries and breathless entreaties for more.

"God, John, please - !" Daniel jerked tense as John bit down at the crook of his neck, his body clenching tight around John's cock with the shudders of climax, spurting thick and warm in John's fingers and on his chest and stomach. John fought to keep his thrusts measured, rocking up into him as his fingers milked Daniel's orgasm from him, but the sensation was too much. His hips jerked up into Daniel's heat again and again as his pleasure crested, crying out his release against his skin.

"John..." his name was a slightly incredulous whisper from Daniel's lips, and John wrapped his arms tightly around his lover. He Tuned away the mess with a thought as he dropped soft kisses along Daniel's skin, trying to catch his breath.

"You all right, love?"

"Yes." A shaky laugh. "Oh yes. You're amazing. That was... oh my."

John couldn't help but chuckle softly, enjoying the warmth and feeling of well being and having Daniel in his arms. "Good. I love you, Daniel. So much."

His lover gave a soft, happy sigh, relaxing a little more in his embrace. "I know. I love you too, John." He chuckled softly, low and easy. "And not just for the amazing sex."

"You sure?" John's words were teasing, and he pressed a soft kiss to Daniel's jaw. "Because there's plenty more where that came from."

He smiled as Daniel laughed, squirming a little on him. "I am very much looking forward to it, then. But at the moment I'm squishing you...."

"You're fine, love." John helped him ease away anyway, giving a soft sigh as his softening cock slid from the warmth of his lover's body. He kept his arms wrapped around Daniel's waist as they shifted on to their sides, tugging the quilts over them with a little mental tug. He leaned over Daniel just enough to catch his mouth, kissing him warm and slow and deep, trying to put into kisses all the love and adoration he felt.

"I do love you," Daniel murmured as he curled back against John's chest with a soft, appreciative sigh. He found one of John's hands with his own and twined their fingers together, squeezing gently. "Despite my fears. It feels as though I've always loved you, John."

"Thank you," John replied, surprisingly touched by his words. He pressed a soft kiss to the crook of Daniel's neck, relaxing with him, enjoying the warm happiness of simply being.

"John?" Amedea stood beside the bed with her paws up on the comforter, tail swishing back and forth.

"Darling...."

"John."

He gave a soft sigh, nestling his face against Daniel's hair, and hoped his lover would forgive him this indulgence. "Fine. Do as you like."

"Good." With that she lept up onto the bed, padding across to nose her way under the blankets and wriggle into Daniel's arms, purring contentedly.

The intimacy of the act hit John like a blow, and for a moment all he could do was hold onto Daniel and draw shuddering breath against his skin, his arms tightening around his waist. He could feel Daniel shivering against him, breathing hard, finally moving to stroke a trembling hand over Amedea's head and down her spine, burying fingers in the sleek black fur. His voice shook as he struggled to speak. "God, John...."

"Won't leave you," John managed, his voice as broken with emotion as Daniel's. "Promise. Love you more than anything."

He felt Daniel give a small, silent nod, his fingers still smoothing over Amedea's fur wonderingly, reverently.

"I hope I am to be included in this." It took John a moment to realize that Kheiron had hopped up onto the bed behind him, and the thought that Daniel would offer him _this_ on top of everything else the man had given him was completely overwhelming.

John tightened one arm around his trembling lover and pressed a kiss just under his ear, not trusting his voice to do anything more than whisper. "I love you." Then he reached out and slowly drew his fingers over the softness of Daniel's soul.

~~~


	7. Epilogue

"I am very displeased with this."

John turned to see his daemon stalled at the doorway of their house, tail swishing back and forth in annoyance. He stared at her for a moment. "With what?"

"This... this cold white stuff. Why did you create it? There's no logical need for it." She shook her head as an errant snowflake blew in to land on her fur, drawing her pink tongue over a paw to smooth it away.

Kherion seemed to have no such reservations, bounding past her and out into the garden. There was half a foot of snow, but he seemed to glide over the surface as he ran around the front yard, large hind paws leaving tracks on the snow without breaking through. He tore around the perimeter of the garden twice before coming back to Amedea finally. "It's not that bad."

"It's cold. And it's _wet._ "

Daniel chuckled as he came out behind her, closing the door and forcing her out onto the porch. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I insisted on winter. It would be far too suspicious to people if the seasons never changed."

"It still doesn't mean I have to go out in it." Amedea fit herself under the bench that sat on the porch beside the door, curling up on herself so that she looked like little more than a large pile of black fur with eyes and tufted ears. "You go. I'm staying here."

John frowned, feet crunching in the snow as he moved back to the porch. "Come on, love. I can't exactly be seen without you...."

"No."

It was Daniel that finally coaxed her out, however, crouching down in front of the bench. "What if I carried you?"

For a moment Amedea was silent, tail flicking back and forth. Then she emerged from under the bench, jumping up onto his shoulder nimbly and settling behind his neck with her paws hanging down, looking rather like a giant fur stole. John felt the same shiver of closeness that he always did when Amedea touched his lover, and he moved to help Daniel to stand. Then he leaned in to claim his lips in a yearning kiss, running his fingers through Amedea's fur.


End file.
